As he approached he saw Hester Pelkey lying in a canvas chair. She half started up when she saw him but sank back with a sigh of surrender. Her eyes were red and swollen, her face taut and almost colorless.
He said, “Believe me, Mrs. Pelkey, I’m sorry to—”
“All right,” she said listlessly. “What do you want?”
“I want to tell you about Ernest. He tried to save my life. The shots were fired at me.”
“What?”
“My back was toward the street; Ernest was facing me. He saw the car and threw himself against me, to shove me out of the way. He did — and was hit himself. Can you imagine how I feel about that?”
She sat up in the chair, gripping the wooden sides. “But you’re Chapman’s stooge.”
“I’m playing that game, because it covers up my real purpose. I’m going to get the person who got Ernest.”
“No!” she half whispered. “Revenge won’t bring him back.”
“But it’ll make what he did worth while. Don’t you see, Mrs. Pelkey? That’s what was the matter with Ernest. He was beaten down by Ben Chapman — and life — until he felt frustrated and small. To put it bluntly, he’d even thought he was losing you.”
“That’s not true!”
“Isn’t it?”
She looked at him in horror, then sank back into the reclining chair. “I was wrong... there was never anyone but Ernest. I know it now and it hurts that I didn’t...”
“I know — and will you help me justify Ernest?”
“Yes! Yes, I will. Perhaps... perhaps he’ll know. What do you want?”
Sargent wanted to ask her who the man had been, but she was too hurt already. He asked, instead, “What did Ernest do with that share of stock he got from Chapman?”
She looked at him half startled, half angry, and he said quickly, “That’s important, Mrs. Pelkey.”
“Why is it? I don’t believe...”
“I think Daniel Sligo was murdered for that share of stock. I think Ernest knew who did it because he knew who had the stock.”
“But you said the shots were fired at you, not Ernest.”
“They were. Oh, Ernest’s life was in danger too, but the killer wanted me first, believing that Ernest would keep quiet then... if he wasn’t arrested for the crimes and put away, because of, well...”
Hester Pelkey’s forehead became a series of little furrows. “But I don’t know, Mr. Sargent. Really, I don’t. Ernest had that share of stock until he was let out by Chapman. Then he became furious. He said he was going to use it to ruin Chapman. He came in one day with a thousand dollars in cash and said he’d done it. That was two days before Mr. Sligo...”
“Do you suppose he sold the stock to Sligo?”
“I thought so at the time. Even after Sligo was killed, I thought so. I thought Chapman had done it, to get the stock. And Ernest said that same thing.”
“I don’t think Chapman killed Sligo,” Sargent said. “I know... he’s every kind of villain, but he didn’t have the nerve for that. I don’t think so. Tell me, was Ernest friendly with Lew Thayer?”
“Of course. But...”
“Thayer bought the share from Hanson Hill for twenty-five dollars and today it turned up in the hands of the former Mrs. Ben Chapman.”
“Who?” cried Hester Pelkey.
“Ruth Reese, who was once married to Ben Chapman.”
“There is such a person, then? Ernest said that was the one thing about which Chapman would never talk.”
“She telephoned him today. And she told him a few things. When I left the office, Ben had his fingernails chewed down to his wrists and was still going strong. His ex-wife had the Indian sign on him.”
“Good! I hope she squeezes him for all he’s worth.”
“It looks like she will. She says if Ben doesn’t give her twenty thousand for that stock by eleven tomorrow, she’s going to give it to Mrs. Sligo.”
The full import of that didn’t strike Hester Pelkey for a moment, but when it did, she gasped, “So if he doesn’t get the other share he’ll be outvoted by Mrs. Sligo’s stock!”
“That’s right. Fifty to forty-nine, in which case Mrs. Sligo chucks Ben out of the business. If he can get the other share he can win a draw. He’ll have Mrs. Sligo around, but he’ll still be on deck himself.”
“Then,” said Hester Pelkey firmly, “I hope he doesn’t find the other share.”
“Actually, you don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
Her chin quivered a little and she had to press her lips together tightly before she could control them. Then she said lightly, “All right, perhaps not. But I was thinking... hasn’t Mrs. Sligo got Ernest’s share now? Didn’t Ernest sell it to Sligo?”
“If he did, it was stolen when Sligo was killed. Unless...”
“No. No, it wasn’t Ernest. I know that.”
“I hope you’re right. And I think you are. I’ll be going.”
“Good-by, Mr. Sargent!”
Walking away from the Cape Cod cottage, Sargent saw a tall figure coming toward him. Wincing, he tried to cross the street, but Lieutenant Fanning had already spied him.
“Sargent!” he cried.
Sargent walked toward him. “Hello. Were you following me?”
“No, this is an accidental pleasure.” Fanning grinned wolfishly. “I was just calling on Mrs. Pelkey. Going back to town?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll walk a ways with you, if you don’t mind.”
“Would it do any good if I did mind?”
“No, it’s a free country. I can walk anywhere I please, even if I am a cop. That wasn’t nice what you did to Hugo the other day.”
“I made Hugo a sporting proposition and he turned it down. What happened was his hard luck.”
“Yeah, Hugo told me. I put him back pounding a beat. Where’ve you been the last two days? Understand Chapman fired you.”
“That was the day before yesterday. I’m back with him again.”
“Nice guy, Chapman. Never a dull moment around him — I hear. By the way, I been carrying around a piece of paper for you. Just a little notice to appear at the inquest next week. For the first one. I’ll probably have another paper for the second inquest. I had them put back a few days, on account of I’m hoping to wash this case up by then. Make it easy for the coroner’s jury.”
“Who’s your candidate, lieutenant?”
“That’d be telling. Who do you guess?”
“That would be telling.”
“Wonder if we’re both thinking of the same person?”
“I won’t know unless you tell me.”
They had reached the elevated station, which here was on the ground level, but Fanning seemed reluctant to let Sargent go. “You know,” he said grudgingly, “you did some pretty fair spade work. I’ve checked over some of your things. You talked to a woman who lives next door to the Sligos’. And that rival turkey paper fellow.”
“Oh,” said Sargent. “So you think it’s Thayer!”
“Isn’t it?” Fanning asked, nervously.
“It’s quite possible. Thayer punched Chapman in the nose the other night. You had a little tussle with him yourself.”
“The Irish bum! He hasn’t got an alibi for the other afternoon, either. Says he was cockeyed at the time. I hear he’s started suit against Chapman for twelve hundred dollars’ commission he claims is due him.”
“I’ll lay you a bet he doesn’t get over three hundred.”
“No bet. I’ve heard enough about Chapman. He’s quite a card. What’s he doing with that dizzy blonde? Working a badger game?”
“A genteel version. But try and prove it.”
“I’m Homicide.” Fanning frowned. “You back at that mousetrap on North Avenue?”